She dwelt among the untrodden ways
...Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
...And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
...Half hidden from the eye!
---Fair as a star, when only one
...Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
...When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
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